Guardian Ranger (Shadow Agents #2)(16)
Author: Cynthia Eden

He sure would never tell Veronica if the guy had. The last thing she needed to know was just how sadistic Cale could be.

“Get our medical examiner in on this.” They’d fly Dr. Sarah Jacobs in. No local with shaking hands would handle this kill. “I’m betting that once the crime-scene guys go over this, and she gets to see the body, all the results will be the same as before.”

The results…the info that the techs gathered about the killer’s height and weight and military training…all based on the kill method.

Height…approximately six foot three. Tall enough that he had to slice downward when his hand curled around the victims’ necks.

Weight…two hundred pounds. He’d left shoe imprints in clay outside one of the vic’s homes. The killer’s mistakes. Uncle Sam’s crime-scene team could do some damn incredible things with their technology. Like…

Determine the guy’s weight based on the depth of those impressions. Get the man’s height based on the length between his steps and the size of the shoe. A height that had matched dead-on with the M.E.’s estimates.

The killer had even left one other valuable piece of info behind in those shoe impressions. A few bits of clay that could be tracked back to only a handful of locations in the U.S….and one of those locations was right here in Whiskey Ridge.

The killer had screwed up on that second kill. When he’d gone after Julian Forrest, an ex-marine, the killer had counted on the forecasted prediction of rain to wipe away his footprints.

That rain hadn’t come.

Did you screw up this time, too?

He was about to find out.

Jasper exhaled. “The kill’s fresh,” he told Gunner. “We need our team searching the area. Cale Lane is here, and unless I’m wrong, it sure looks like he’s trying to cover his tracks.”

By killing.

Because Reed Montgomery wasn’t like the last three victims that had been killed in their homes. Victims who’d opened the door to the killer because they had known him.

They all knew Cale. In one way or another, those three victims had all traced back to Cale. One of the men had trained with him in Georgia. Another had been on a mission with Cale in Syria. One had worked with Cale for a month in an African desert.

All three of those victims had been EOD. They’d been executed.

Reed…he’d been executed, too, but not because he was EOD. He’d died for another reason. To protect the killer’s identity.

Jasper ended the call. He killed you because of what you knew.

Now Jasper just needed to find the evidence that Reed had possessed. Evidence that had been worth killing for.

* * *

CALE LANE WATCHED the house, his eyes narrowed as his fingers curled around his weapon. He preferred to use a knife on his kills. Much quieter than a gun. More personal. You were able to get right up to your target. With a knife, there would be no mistakes. No miscalculations on those up-close kills.

Jasper Adams knew all about close kills. The man had been killing for over ten years.

And now that man was with his sister. Cale had seen them go into the apartment together. Seen the way Jasper’s fingers lingered on Veronica’s arm.

He’d warned Jasper to stay away from her.

Jasper should have listened to him.

Now his old buddy was going to get caught in the bloody battle. There was nothing Cale could do to change fate. Death was coming. No, death had already taken over Whiskey Ridge. He could feel its dark shadow all around him.

The only thing to do now… Cale had to make sure the blood that spilled didn’t belong to his sister. But anyone else…

Fair game.

Chapter Five

The computer was just sitting there. Okay, not so much sitting as hiding beneath a pile of papers. But as Veronica paced the small den, she caught sight of the laptop, and before she could think of the million reasons why she shouldn’t open it, she was on the couch, the laptop in her hands.

Immediately, the password screen popped up. Her eyes narrowed. She didn’t know Reed. Knew nothing about him except…

Last Chance. She typed the letters quickly, not looking at the keys. Her gaze darted back to the hallway. Jasper was still in there, with the body.

Her stomach churned. There had been so much blood.

Don’t think about him. Don’t. Build that wall of ice again. Don’t feel. Don’t. Feel.

Three dead bodies. At least she hadn’t seen the light go out of Reed’s eyes.

But she’d looked at him, at his long body, and for an instant, she’d seen her brother.

Cale isn’t dead.

And Last Chance wasn’t the right password.

Of course, would it ever be that easy?

Her gaze flew around the room. Looking for something, anything to help her. Most people used passwords that reminded them of things they loved. Kids’ names, hobbies, favorite books, favorite—

There was a big poster of John Wayne on the guy’s wall.

The Duke was the password that let her in to his system.

Her shoulders hunched as she curled over the screen. Her fingers typed, faster and faster as she searched through the material. Files had been deleted, recently, too, but the person deleting hadn’t known what he was doing. Sure, he’d sent the material to the trash, then deleted the trash, but…

That wasn’t good enough.

Two more clicks of her fingers and she had the “deleted” files open.

One file was titled “Chances.” She clicked it and frowned as she read. It looked like a series of jobs. Not so much jobs as…maybe missions. Locations were listed. Dates. Then some sort of code names. Razor. Jumper. Deuce. Striker Two.

“What are you doing?”

She jumped. Jasper had come back. Moved so silently that she’d never even heard him enter the room. Cale was the only other man she knew who could move like that.

Her heart was in her throat, but she swallowed and managed to shove it back down where it belonged. “I found Reed’s laptop and recovered some files.” She frowned up at him. “He doesn’t name the men who’ve been working his jobs. They all have code names.”

His lips tightened. “There could be prints on that laptop.”

Prints. She hadn’t even—

“Put it down, carefully. Crime-scene techs will be coming soon.”

They’d find her prints all over the machine. Wonderful. Prints at a crime scene. Witness to two murders hours before. This wasn’t exactly the exciting life that she’d always craved.

Gingerly, she put the laptop on the old coffee table. “He lists names like Deuce, Razor, Striker—”